


Finding A Way Out

by smoke_and_paint



Category: Glee
Genre: Depression, Homophobia, M/M, Suicide, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2012-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-12 00:24:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoke_and_paint/pseuds/smoke_and_paint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine Anderson made a choice. He ignored the fact that it would hurt the person he loved more than anything, and he made an irreversible choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding A Way Out

At first he went home every weekend just to keep a sense of normality. Then again, switching schools after having the shit kicked out of you at your first Sadie Hawkins dance tends to destroy normality.

His parents knew though. He never thought that his parents would find out, especially not in this way.

Before the dance, his parents thought that he and Liam were just friends. He had to come out to his parents in a hospital bed with bruises, broken bones, and blood loss damaging the way he said it. He couldn’t remember the speech he had planned because he had a concussion. 

“I just don’t understand,” his father said, cutting through the silence of the room. “Why would they hurt you? What did you ever do to them? Were you antagonizing them? Calling them names? We raised you better than that.”

The boy in the bed shook his head, writhing his hands. He took a deep breath, realizing that now was the moment he had to do it. He looked up at his father, locked eyes with him, and said the words that changed everything forever.

“I’m gay, dad.”

As soon as he said it, he felt as though a burden had been lifted from his shoulders, relief and bliss surging through his bones momentarily. However, when that moment ended, he was paralyzed with fear. He had confessed what he had worked so hard to keep silent. It had been years of self-battles, and he had just thrown all of his effort out the window. The exhaustion from sleepless nights spent reminding himself why he had to be silent, the scars that self-loathing had left after breaking down and telling his best friend. His trails were deemed worthless in one second.

\--

When he was finally allowed to leave the hospital, the first thing he was handed was a brochure for Dalton Academy for Boys.

“You’re starting next week. Your schedule is sitting on your desk in your room, your uniform is hanging in your closet, and you are to ask no questions. This weekend, we’ll be moving you into your dorm room, and I expect all of the things that you need to take with you to be packed by 7:00 on Friday evening,” his father instructed, not leaving a moment for his son to react before locking himself in his study for the first time of many.

\--

His visits slowed to every other weekend, then once a month, then once every two months. Eventually he only went home when his Dorm Advisor sent him, threatening to call his parents and have them pick him up.

He couldn’t go home. He couldn’t look at his father when he finally did surface from the dark glow of his study. He didn’t need to though; he could feel the hatred and anger radiating from the man. He stopped looking into his mother’s eyes the first few times. He couldn’t stand to see the unmasked disappointment, sadness, and sorrow that would overtake her golden eyes.

But it was Christmas break, and all of the students were forced to go home for the two weeks. He spent every day out of the house, usually with Kurt. 

Kurt Hummel was his best friend. Kurt Hummel also happened to be his boyfriend, which made the whole endeavor even better. But he was so much more than a boyfriend.

Kurt was his world. The first thing that entered his mind when he opened his eyes every day was thoughts of Kurt. He yearned for the precious moments that they spent together, studying, going to get coffee, discussing the latest issue of Vogue, or the latest from the Alexander McQueen line. His favorite thing to do was to lose himself in the stunning oceans that were Kurt’s eyes. Eyes so deep that he constantly felt himself slipping away into the vast sea of beautiful blue, hoping to God he would never escape.

But today he was staring into a different set of eyes; ones that he hadn’t looked at in three years. As he sat at the dinner table, the only other place that his father could be spotted, he looked into his mother’s sad hazel eyes.

He had forgotten how much disappointment can sting. How it felt to look at someone who is supposed to love you unconditionally and irrevocably, and know that you’re the reason for the emptiness in their eyes.   
He looked up at his father. He met a gaze that told him exactly how unwelcome he was. How much of a failure and an embarrassment he was to the family.

And in that moment, Blaine decided that he was never going to have to see that look again. 

He excused himself from dinner, taking his plate into the kitchen and placing it next to the sink. He barely registered the sound of the utensils scraping together, clinking against the china plate. Still focusing on what he was finally about to let himself do, he walked upstairs slowly, taking his time as he walked into the bathroom. He reached into the medicine cabinet and pulled out one of the many bottles of his mother’s failed antidepressants.

He pressed his hand down on the lid and twisted it left, hearing the seal open and the little white tablets rush around inside the small orange bottle. He held up his left hand, cupping it slightly as the pills flowed into his palm. After a few seconds, he carefully put the lid back on and placed it just as it had been in the cabinet only a few seconds before. He grabbed a small Dixie cup from the stack that resided beside the tap and filled it with water. He took each pill individually, counting them as he went along.

Twenty-three. Twenty-three smooth round tablets. Twenty-three more than he should ever take. But that hadn’t stopped him. Nothing had. Not even Kurt. 

He felt a twinge in his chest, knowing what this was going to do to the beautiful man that he cared about so deeply. Realizing that he couldn’t just leave without a goodbye to Kurt, Blaine walked back into his room and picked up a black pen and the closest piece of blank paper. It was the last piece of watercolor paper from the pack that Kurt had bought Blaine as a birthday present. He smiled fondly as the memory played through his mind. He carefully scrawled out his final words to the one person that mattered to him more than anything in the world. 

When he had finished, he held the textured paper in his hands. Sitting at the end of his bed, he thought of those beautiful seas of blue that he loved to fall into. He thought of the man who owned his heart, and he decided that he didn't just want to sit and wait to die. He reached for the pack of paints that had come with the paper, and rushed into the bathroom to fill another Dixie cup. Picking up a paint brush off of his desk, he dipped it in the small cup and transferred the water to the blue paint. He painted the orbs that were embedded in his mind as the calm, numbing feeling washed over him until his eyelids were too heavy to hold. He closed his eyes, embracing the cool darkness that he somehow managed to feel through the emptiness, and smiled at the relief that thrummed through his veins.

\--

The next day, Kurt would go into their coffee shop. He would order two medium drips, and take the coffees from the familiar barista with a smile. He'd fix each coffee, and wait. He would wait for the man he loved to walk in the door, and he’d smile even wider when their eyes found each other.

But that wouldn't happen. Kurt would wait for Blaine. But he wouldn't answer his phone, and he wouldn't respond to the desperate voicemails that Kurt would leave. Kurt would have to hear the news over the announcements at school, when they called for a moment of memorial.

Because no one could push past their son’s sexuality long enough to remember that he was a person, just as they are. No one believed that love is love, no matter who you share it with. No one ever let Kurt see the note, or the painting.

Blaine would never again smile his beautiful smile. The one that always showed just a bit too much teeth. That caused laugh lines. That somehow managed to light up a room in seconds.

Truthfully, Kurt never would either.


End file.
